


Breathless

by orphan_account



Series: Of Monsters and Martin [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Choking, Imprisonment, M/M, Martin has feelings for Jon but it's not the focus, Oral Sex, Supernatural Elements, Unrequited attraction, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Martin investigates an old basement as follow-up for a statement and finds himself unable to escape.(The Buried)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Of Monsters and Martin [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776565
Kudos: 28





	Breathless

Martin walked carefully down the old wooden stairs into the basement of the abandoned warehouse. He’d expected the basement to be cold, but it was weirdly humid, and the hot damp air made it hard to breathe. He wanted to get in and out as fast as he could, but he knew he had to do a thorough investigation before he left. It was what Jon wanted.

Before Jon became Archivist, Martin had started half-assing his investigations a bit. He didn’t want to, but you can only have so many brushes with kidnapping, violence, and death before you start avoiding those sorts of situations. His procedure was usually to walk in, shine his flashlight around a bit, and if nothing interesting stood out, he’d report back to Gertrude that there was nothing of note. Of course the rest of the Archives staff picked up on it, and it definitely gained him a reputation for being useless and not very good at his job. Jon especially had a certain disdain for him, and when he became Archivist his hatred of Martin got even more pronounced.

So of course Martin instantly fell in love with him.

Whatever Jon did, no matter how many times Jon gave him the clearly dangerous investigation jobs or scowled at him when he brought him tea, Martin loved Jon. He wanted to impress Jon, he wanted Jon to like him, so he started taking those investigations very seriously. This definitely reminded Martin of why he’d stopped being so thorough in the first place, but he pushed through. For Jon.

He walked through the basement, guided by nothing but the light from a small torch he’d brought. The floor was made of dirt, and above him was a wooden ceiling that looked like it could collapse at any moment. He walked quickly, listening to the ceiling creak above him, ready to run at any moment if it started collapsing.

Then his torch went out.

Martin lost his composure, running in the direction he thought was the stairs. It wasn’t. He ran full-speed into a wall, falling to his knees and rubbing his bruised forehead. He pushed the button on his torch repeatedly, but it still wouldn’t turn on. He hadn’t seen any lights in the basement when it was still on, but he tried to find one anyway. He ran his hand over the dusty wall looking for a light switch, he reached up and waved his hand around looking for a pull cord, but he found nothing. He walked back and forth, trying to find the stairs, and he must have gotten turned around at some point, because even though he remembered the stairs being in a corner of the room he managed to hit all four corners of the basement without finding them. Martin kept walking in a circle against the wall over and over, and he felt himself start panicking when it became clear he’d rounded the room several times with no sign of the stairs.

After several long minutes of this, he ran into something.

“Pardon me,” he said, though he knew it couldn’t have been a person. No one had come down with him, and the only entrance to the basement was the creaky wooden stairwell, so surely he would’ve heard them come in.

“No problem,” the thing he’d bumped into said. Its voice was deep and hoarse. It must have been a man, but Martin still had no idea how he would have gotten there.

Martin gulped.

“Are you lost?” the man asked, reaching out and grabbing onto Martin’s shoulder. Its hand was cold, and it almost felt like a relief from the thick, humid heat of the basement.

“Yes, I think I am,” Martin replied. “My torch ran out of batteries, and I can’t find the stairs. Do you know how to get out?”

“Sure I do,” he replied. “I can help you. Just need you to do one thing for me.”

The man pushed down on Martin’s shoulder. Martin resisted, but he grabbed his other shoulder and forced him to his knees.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded.

“This’ll get me out?” Martin said softly, shaking with fear. He didn’t keep his mouth open. Something cold and fleshy pressed against his lips.

“‘Course it will,” the man replied. “Just open your mouth for me.”

“What if I don’t?” Martin asked, making a constant effort to keep his mouth as closed as possible.

“Then I can leave you down here,” the man replied. “But you don’t want that, do you?”

Martin was sweating in the awful humidity of the basement. He’d hate to be trapped down there. He’d hate to die down there, alone in the dark, damp room. Slowly, he opened his mouth.

It was a cock. Martin hadn’t expected anything different, and while servicing a stranger in exchange for going home safely felt awful and violating, he preferred it to being killed. And besides, if he was lucky, it wouldn’t leave any lasting marks. He’d seen the scars Jon and Tim had acquired after Jane Prentiss, he’d seen other Institute employees return from investigations with awful wounds and permanently damaged minds. Comparatively, this was nothing.

The man didn’t fuck his mouth. He just pushed Martin onto his cock and didn’t move after that. Martin tried to move himself back and forth or drag his tongue over the cock in his mouth, but the man just held his head in place and didn’t give any other reaction. Martin figured there was no point in working any harder, the humid air of the basement was already leaving him exhausted, so he remained still. The man’s cock was big, stretching Martin’s lips around it and pushing hard against the back of Martin’s throat. Martin started to feel lightheaded, and realized he’d forgotten to breath.

Then he realized he couldn’t.

He panicked at that point, trying to pull himself off, but the man gripped his head tightly and kept him on. He tried to suck in air, but the cock seemed to block his throat. It occurred to him that that shouldn’t be possible, he should at least be able to breathe through his nose, but it just didn’t work. He knew he was wasting precious oxygen by crying, but he couldn’t stop the whines coming from his mouth. He wanted to scream, but his mouth was already open wide and he now longer had enough air in his lungs to do so. If there were any lights in the room, he would’ve seen his vision fade, but as it was he merely got more and more lightheaded until he finally lost consciousness.

Martin didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious. When he came to, he was lying on his back, but he could still feel the cock stretching his lips and blocking his throat. He started crying again, but the man on top of him patted him on the head and shushed him.

“Sorry about that,” the man whispered. “You passed out before you could finish me off, and we can’t have that, can we?”

Martin could feel himself getting lightheaded again already. He suspected the humidity of the room was making it worse. He tried not to whimper or cry, tried to conserve his breath just long enough for the man to finish so he could finally get out, finally _breathe_ again.

The man came down Martin’s throat, making him choke. He removed his cock, and Martin gasped for air. The humid air stung his throat and didn’t make him feel any less out of breath, but his head had stopped spinning at least.

“Stairs are to your left,” the man said. Martin stood up, turned to his left, and nearly tipped as his foot hit the edge of the wooden stair. He walked up the stairs, still gasping for air.

He awoke again on the floor above, lying on the ground with Jon and Tim standing over him.

“Jesus, Martin,” Jon muttered.

“Did I pass out again?” Martin asked. The air was cool and refreshing even within the old building.

“Again?” Jon exclaimed. “Is that why you were gone for three days? You fell asleep down there?”

Martin looked down at the floor as he sat up, avoiding Jon’s gaze.

“Three days,” he said to himself. “Was it really three days?”

“Yes,” Tim replied. “We came looking for you, but the door to the basement was locked.”

“And you didn’t, I don’t know, break it down?” Martin might have been screaming if his lungs didn’t ache so much.

“This is technically still private property,” Jon grumbled. “I didn’t want to get arrested for vandalism as well as trespassing.”

“Three days,” Martin repeated.

“What’s that on your face?” Tim asked.

Martin placed a hand to his face. Almost every inch of his skin was damp with sweat, but he also felt something sticky on his chin. He knew exactly what it was. He felt sick.

“I’m not sure,” he said.

“You must be thirsty,” Tim remarked.

“Yeah,” Martin replied. He hadn’t noticed it before this somehow, but he really was. His throat was dry and sore as well, and a cold glass of water sure would help with that.

“I’m really sorry,” Tim said. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the Archive.”


End file.
